Wintertide
by StarKatt427
Summary: Winter is nearly over, but Jamie has one last thing he wants to do before the ice thins and Jack leaves for the next several months: ice skating. But is the past destined to repeat itself, or will Jack be able to change it?


**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians, nor The Guardians of Childhood book series; the film belongs to DreamWorks Animation and the book series to William Joyce.**

**A/N: I meant to post this story yesterday as a Fourth of July present, but I got home late and have a friend staying over, so my plans changed a little. This is the first RotG story I've done from Jamie's point of view, and I plan on hopefully doing more with him narrating (in third person, that is). From the early days of writing this, the title of a poem by Stevie Smith got stuck in my head and refused to leave: **Not Waving But Drowning**. However, I felt like it didn't fit this story, so I held off on it for the time being and chose **Wintertide**, an older version of the word wintertime, for two reasons: this story takes place in winter (and Jack is a winter spirit) and because of the word _tide_ in the title, which reminded me of ocean tides and water.****  
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**Chronologically, this takes place after **Snow in Summer** and before **Avowal**.**

**StarKatt427**

* * *

Cold. Shocking, devastating cold that surrounded him, swallowed him whole, sucked him under and refused to release him. The shock stole the air from his lungs, water flooding up his nose, so frigid it seemed to burn. The water leeched what little warmth his body had left, and darkness was ubiquitous, the only light coming through a circular hole above him. Flailing, kicking, trying to get back to the surface, his limbs wouldn't cooperate, slowed by the ice water.

He could see the sun.

And then Jamie couldn't see anything.

* * *

Ms. Bennett took one glance at her ten-year-old before returning to the bills in front of her. "Grab your hat."

Jamie groaned, fidgeting to get outside. "Mom, it's not even _that _cold. I'll be fine."

She gave him a look from behind her glasses, one Jamie recognized well enough to know arguing was futile. He already knew she would win, like she generally did. "Do you want to get a cold? You don't exactly do well being cooped up for days on end."

He considered this, but only for a moment, knowing he needed to hurry and slip outside before Sophie figured out he was gone and trotted down the stairs to follow. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Jamie went to the hall to retrieve his hat (which he didn't need, thank you very much). He walked back to the kitchen, then let his mother kiss his cheek and kissed hers in return.

"Don't stay out so long that you freeze," she advised.

"Got it. I'll be good."

She smiled, more with her eyes than anything. "I know."

With that, he was running out the door, feet trailing down the porch steps and slapping over sidewalk and then sinking into snow. He checked over his shoulder once, to make sure Sophie hadn't come out of her own little world to trail after him, because there was no way she was coming with him, the main reason being that she was too little to ice skate.

With spring steadily approaching and winter beginning to come to its end, Jamie had begun seeing less of Jack, the Guardian having other duties besides keeping the snow coming in this one town. But Jack always managed to make time for him, which Jamie was grateful for, as he rarely appeared during summer. Over the last few weeks, Jack had joined in the last snowball battles with Jamie and his friends, but now that he was bringing in the snow less and less, days would pass without Jamie catching a glimpse of him, days when Jack was spread over the European countries or busy with the other Guardians. Still, when he did make a reappearance, he never acted like he'd even been gone; Jack was good at that.

One thing Jamie didn't understand was why whenever he mentioned going ice skating, Jack always changed the subject, finding new ways to keep him occupied, new games to play, and it wouldn't be until he was lying in bed at night, on the precipice of sleep, that Jamie would realize what had happened. Though he didn't have the best balance, Jamie was pretty good at skating, and he and his friends always managed to have more fun that they thought they would when they went out onto the ice, sporting sore limbs and covered in bruises the next morning. He'd gone before with his friends but never with Jack, and if it was fun with Claude and Caleb and Pippa and Monty and Cupcake, he could only imagine the absolute thrill it would be with Jack, his best friend being the embodiment of winter, after all.

He'd finally asked Jack if he would go with him a few days earlier, just when the sun was beginning to sink in the pinkish gold sky. Jack had gone still where he'd been sitting on the branch of a tree, not looking at Jamie, attention focused elsewhere. "Ice skating's really not up my alley."

"But you go out on the pond all the time. I know you don't need skates, but it would be fun," Jamie had offered, hoping to sway him.

Jack had looked at him, expression a little strange to Jamie, and perplexing, and then Jack had lifted off the tree branch, landing gracefully on the ground before heading in Jamie's direction, stopping at his side. "Maybe," he'd offered. "But it's too close to spring now; the ice will start thinning soon, especially after I have to leave." He'd placed his hand on Jamie's head, letting it sit there for a moment, and Jamie had watched him with slight confusion, unsure of his behavior.

He'd followed Jack's retreating figure as he began walking in the opposite direction, away from his house to somewhere Jamie didn't know. He'd stopped though, and Jamie had waited. "Hey, Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

Jack had looked over his shoulder, and even with the distance, Jamie could see his eyes were serious. "Don't go to the pond without me. Alright?"

Brows furrowed, Jamie had answered, "Sure."

Then Jack's face had lifted into a smile, carefree once more, and he'd vanished.

Jamie was a child. So, like most children, he often didn't do what he was told, and sometimes did exactly the opposite, which was why he found himself now looking over the frozen pond, his old skates in his backpack and breath filtering into his lungs in cool puffs. Jack had seemed back to normal the day after their conversation, although he never did mention ice skating again, and neither did Jamie, already having begun devising a plan and not wanting to draw Jack's attention. Jamie wasn't normally disobedient, and on most occasions, he would have convinced his friends to tag along. But this time, he wanted to prove something: Jack didn't have to worry about him.

Because he did, and Jamie, already perceptive for a child, could see that. Over the last year, he had come to somewhat understand Jack and the way he functioned, although the spirit was still mostly a mystery that Jamie had yet to question, and it had become apparent that Jack was a little more protective of him than the other kids in Burgess. The month before, Jamie and Caleb had been throwing a football to one another, increasing the distance between them with every catch, until Caleb had thrown the ball with a little too much force, and it had caught right between two branches of a naked tree. It hadn't been too high, and Jamie, sure of his climbing abilities, had shimmied up the tree to retrieve it. Jamie had managed to get just within reach of the ball, the tips of his fingers ghosting over it, when the branch he'd been standing on cracked beneath his weight, sending him plummeting with enough force that he'd cried out.

Instead of falling onto spindly branches, collapsing in the snow with a broken arm or neck, Jamie had felt something cold and solid and alive catch hold of him, and blue-clad arms had locked around his small middle, a chest rising with breath against his. It wasn't difficult to recognize Jack's cold, and Jamie had instantly been at ease, though his heart had still been pounding.

Caleb had run over to the two of them as they touched down, Jack letting him slide to his feet, and Jamie had heard a laugh vibrate through his chest just before he was turned around so that they were looking at one another, Jack's smile crooked and the football in one hand. With the other hand, he'd brushed snow from Jamie's hair. "Nice fall, buddy. Try and be more careful next time, okay?"

Jack hadn't been too worried, which had made Jamie feel better, but then he'd noticed something he hadn't been sure if he was supposed to: when Jack placed his hand against his shoulder, his hand had been shaking. It was a very slight action, one he wouldn't have been aware of several months ago, and he wasn't sure if Jack realized he'd noticed or even knew his fingers were jerking. His face had still been smiling, but his vivid eyes looked a little different, and Jamie didn't known what had changed them. So he'd nodded obediently, unsure what exactly had just taken place.

Now, only a month later, he still wasn't entirely sure why Jack had responded the way he had, but Jamie had made sure to be more careful so that that look wouldn't cross his face again.

Jamie slid down the bank surrounding the pond, sitting on a long, thick log that was often where he seated himself when Jack brought him and Sophie out here for hide-and-seek or games of the winter spirit's invention. Unzipping his backpack, his pulled out his skates, then tugged off his sneakers without undoing the laces and slipped his feet into the brown skates, lacing them up with slow fingers. He had only gone skating a handful of times in the last few years and never by himself, his mother usually watching over him or one of his friends' mothers when then got together, but he wasn't really worried about being alone.

He could still remember the first time he'd been taken out on the ice, five years old and unsteady as a newborn colt once his blades had touched the frozen surface, and he could remember his father urging him on, hands extended. He'd grabbed hold of him and let his father pull him out, slowly becoming comfortable but remaining attached to the man's side.

It was a good memory.

Pushing it down before his chest got tight, Jamie stood and made his way to the edge of the pond, tapping the ice with one of his blades before placing both feet on the surface, slowly skating around the pond's edge as he rememorized the stride at which to move, felt the scrape of the ice beneath his blades. He knew skating alone wouldn't be fun in the same way a snowball fight or football was, because you had to have someone else with you, but this was a different fun, a relaxing one that could only be achieved while he was alone. Soon he was out over the rest of the pond, legs pumping fast, a little spray of ice fanning up when he went faster than he knew he was supposed to. The air was cool against his mouth, in his lungs, and Jamie breathed it all in with a sense of exhilaration.

He could only imagine a race. If Jack had been there, it wouldn't have been a competition, because Jack would have won every time, but Jamie still found himself wishing he'd found him and drug him along.

And then Jamie came to a sudden halt, stopping so fast he nearly tipped over, sliding across the ice before stopping. The only reason he had gone to the pond was to prove that Jack didn't have to worry about him, when all that he really wanted was for him to just enjoy this fun with him.

Suddenly, though, it wasn't as much fun, and Jamie sighed, staring down at his foggy reflection where he stood in the middle of the pond. He was good about playing by himself without ever getting lonely, but now that he had known Jack for nearly a year—a _year _already—and had experienced real, genuine fun, it was hard for him not to wish he was sharing it with Jack.

He could go home and turn on a movie, convince his mom to get away from her weekend work to fix some popcorn and sit with him and Sophie, play with them in a way she hadn't had time for lately. He could go to his room later and watch Abby curl up on his bed to sleep, and he could sit at his desk and draw and draw and draw, countless pictures that told the story of everything over the last year. He could read one of the same books he never got tired of reading. And then he could only hope that Jack would come, since it was hard to find him, and they could find something new to do, something amazing, and he wouldn't mention skating again for a long time.

Sighing, Jamie reached up to adjust the hat on his head, then started to head back to the pond's edge.

And froze.

A sharp, splintering crack that made his heart stutter and adrenaline fear latch hold of him sounded beneath his feet. Without moving his head, he looked down, just able to see the thin spider web fractures beneath his skates.

_It's too close to spring now; the ice will start thinning soon._

Inhaling a jerky breath, Jamie lifted one foot, slowly moving off, but when it connected with unmarred ice, the cracks shot out further, and he went immobile, legs beginning to wobble as he stared down at the growing cracks, heard the snapping, hard pop of ice getting ready to shatter, too terrified to move another muscle.

This fear…Jamie hadn't felt such fear since the Boogeyman's shadows had crept toward him, slinking in the darkness like greedy, hungry hands ready to devour him. He could hear his breathing, loud and gasping, and he swallowed down something that felt a whimper.

Words bubbled up his throat, words he didn't even know were inside him, and he had no idea what he was going to say until his voice broke past his tight throat and entered the world in a scream: "_JACK!_" It echoed on the trees around him, and then he was shouting again, unable to stop as he cried for the one person he knew, without a doubt, would be able to save him.

But no one came, even after he'd screamed himself raw, and Jamie was left watching the ice beneath him, too fearful to move after the first time. He stood there, mind racing for any possibility, even as his heart seemed to shrink when he realized that Jack wasn't coming, eyes nearly burning with tears.

All there was left to do was pray for a miracle, because Jamie had no idea how to get himself out of this trouble.

That miracle came not a minute later, the wind pulling him in and bringing with it the most wonderful voice in the world. "Jamie!"

The sound that left him was something between a laugh and a sob. "Jack!"

The winter spirit landed on the edge of the pond, just inches away from where the ice began. His face, already pale, was abnormally so, and his blue eyes were bright points, mouth pulled into a tight line. "Jamie, you're going to be fine, alright?"

"Jack." Fear choked his throat, making his voice high and all trembly. "Jack, I'm scared."

Pain flashed across Jack's face, and then it was gone, and he was trying to smile. "I-I know. But I'm getting you out of this. I need you to do what I say though, okay?"

Jamie gave a swift nod, afraid any slight action would send him plummeting into the freezing water below.

Hovering above the surface, Jack began approaching. "I'm gonna fly over and grab you. Just stay still for me. Stay still." It felt like he was too far away, or he was moving too slowly, and Jamie was shaking in earnest now, eyes suddenly flooded by hot tears that distorted Jack's figure.

Jack must have seen, because he was moving faster now, steadily talking encouragement to Jamie. "I'm gonna get you, just trust me. You have to trust me."

Jamie tried to nod, but then the ice moaned, more cracks shooting out around his feet, and causing a tearful breath to exit his mouth as his eyes locked on the splintered surface. He looked desperately at Jack, trying to fight down a sob. "J-Jack."

"Almost there."

And then it was quiet, and that was worse than the popping of the ice.

Jack's eyes going wide, he shot toward Jamie with such speed that he seemed to blur; but then, Jamie realized _he _was the one who was moving, speed tilting his vision as the bottom dropped out beneath him, the action causing an involuntary cry to break past his lips as he slid through the newfound hole in the ice, plunging into freezing water.

The last thing he heard before water plugged his ears was Jack screaming his name.

Cold hit Jamie from every angle, wrapping him in a glacier so frigid that it tore the air from his lungs, the shock hitting his brain and slowing him down so that by the time he realized he needed to hold his breath, ice water was already running down his throat and up his nose. Coming out of the initial surprise, Jamie kicked his feet, looking at the sunlight through the hole he'd fallen into, but there was too much darkness around him, so cold that it sucked everything from his body, so cold that it literally burned. Struggling, Jamie heaved, lungs automatically trying to dispel water, but it only caused more to flood into them, and Jamie realized that he was drowning: that was the scariest thing about falling through the ice, the way his lungs were pushing against his ribs, their insides flooded and bursting with water, the way spots were beginning to rim his vision. He reached up, trying to get back to the surface.

And he couldn't. If it had been normal water, water not ice cold, and he hadn't been so stunned, he would have had no trouble getting to the surface. But Jamie, who was still small and had never been in water where his feet didn't touch the bottom at some point, couldn't propel himself upward.

It seemed like forever, like he was in the water, under the ice, for an eternity; that his lungs were about to burst and he couldn't keep from breathing water in, that his eyes were foggy. He looked up at the sunlight, unable to remember what it felt like on his skin, or the heat of summer. Nothing but the cold.

Darkness covered the light.

Jamie's eyes slipped shut, blinded by the stinging water, his body rapidly losing awareness and thoughts fumbling into one another, freezing into blackness.

Something solid locked around his upper arm, pulling him, tugging him up, and then he broke through the water and his eyes snapped open, blinded by the brightness around him and unable to completely understand what was happening, everything distant to his ears, the air freezing his soaking clothes to his body. He couldn't suck in any breath, though, and that sent his body into full out terror, even though he couldn't find the strength to lift his limbs.

There was someone holding him, an arm beneath his bent legs, and Jamie was distantly aware that it had to be Jack, but then he was no longer being held. He was half sprawled out across the ground, on his knees and on the verge of blacking out, when a hand hit him solid between his shoulder blades with enough force that Jamie would have gasped it he'd been able to. Instead, a rush of water surged up his throat, and he coughed, suddenly gagging up liquid that froze his mouth and nose and ran down his chin, an endless supply of pond water surging up from his lungs. He tried to hold himself up, but his arms were too weak to support his weight; he never fell over though, Jack holding him up, continuously beating his back to expel the water from his lungs.

When, at last, Jamie's body went limp and he was heaving in nothing but air and had water and spit still trailing from his mouth, so cold he couldn't even feel the warmth of tears sliding down his face, he once again became aware of the presence surrounding him, and for the first time couldn't feel the individual cold radiating off of Jack. Jamie blinked up at Jack as he pulled him closer, fingers lifting his chin and hands touching over his neck and face.

He had never seen such a look of panic on Jack's face, so evident that Jamie recognized it even through the fog he was in. His eyes were large and wild, pupils constricted with something more fear than anger, and if Jamie had been more conscious, he would have been able to realize Jack's hands were trembling as they checked his shivering body.

"What were you _thinking_? I told you, I _told _you, not to come out here without me! You would have _drowned_!"

Jack was furious, but later, when Jamie was coherent and recalled this moment, he would remember the catching sound in his voice and the way his words had broken. Now, though, he was too exhausted and cold to think anything, barely able to hear Jack clearly. His eyelids fluttered, vision tunneling out.

Hands shook his shoulders fiercely. "Don't you dare go to sleep. Jamie, you stay _awake_, do you hear me?"

But Jamie was already falling forward, everything around him spinning until there was nothing but darkness, and he was gone.

* * *

When Jamie woke up, it was to a dim light and warmth so overwhelming it was nearly stifling. He blinked, forcing his eyes to remain open, looking around his bedroom and wondering why he felt so tired, why his body was hot but every once in a while would be overcome with a shiver. The memory of before was dim, like a distant dream, and he was having trouble discerning if it hadn't actually been a dream: feet breaking through ice, plummeting into water that was like the inside of an ice cube, liquid clogging his lungs and then flushing from them.

Looking down at himself, Jamie saw he was covered in several thick quilts, which explained why he felt like he was sweating. Without moving, he looked to the door, which was just slightly ajar, to the window, shut and locked.

He did a double take, eyes jerking so quickly to his desk that it nearly hurt.

Jack sat crouched atop the wooden surface, tense and looking for all the world like a caged animal, on the balls of his feet and staring directly at Jamie. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't really look mad either. "I was wondering if you'd turned into Sleeping Beauty over there."

Jamie, too worn out to recognize the taunting words or distinguish that Jack's tone was anything but, blinked back. He finally tried to speak, but as the words rose up, he found himself coughing, throat sandpaper raw as his body bunched into a ball against the action shaking his form, burning his esophagus and causing a pounding pain to take up residence in his head.

Arms gently lifted him up, positioning him so that he wouldn't choke as he continued to cough, lungs burning with the effort to suck in air, and he remembered a feeling similar to this, when he hadn't been able to get any air in; it had been water that kept him from breathing then, though. A hand smoothed up his back, patiently waiting until he managed to get in a few deep, rattling breaths where he sat limply against Jack's shoulder. He was even hotter now, and his head was hammering, and he didn't feel at all like himself.

Jamie finally opened his eyes, looking up into Jack's tight face. "Hi," he whispered hoarsely.

Jack cringed at the sound of his voice, then reached to the bedside table for a glass of water Jamie hadn't even seen. "Hi yourself."

Suddenly realizing just how thirsty he was, Jamie took the glass, slowly lifting it to swallow a deep gulp of room temperature water, then another.

"Slow it down," Jack advised.

He did so, drinking as much as he could before handing the glass to Jack, who sat it back on the table. Jamie slid down onto the bed, throat no longer as dry and feeling a little more coherent, and watched Jack place himself near his feet. "So…that really happened, huh?"

"You mean falling into a freezing body of water and nearly drowning? Yeah, it did."

Jamie couldn't remember much of anything after passing out against Jack that morning, but there were a few fragments, tiny pieces that came to him in jagged edges: arms around him, a voice that he was sure was Jack's urgent in his ears; the feel of hands on his face, his mother's words a soft lullaby; disorientation, snapping awake with chills and reaching for someone, anyone, only to be soothed by a kiss against his forehead and his mother rubbing soothing circles over the back of his hand.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"All afternoon. You mom had a doctor come over, give you some medicine to help keep your fever down. It's nearly ten now."

Fever; that explained why he was hot but still felt light shakes rocking his shoulders every so often. He brought a hand up to wipe at his burning eyes, already beginning to feel sleepy again as he looked through his fingers at Jack. "How did I get back here?"

Jack was quiet for a moment. "I carried you. The wind was a big help. I couldn't get your hat though."

Jamie tried to laugh, but it came out as a rough cough. "I didn't like that hat anyway."

Jack smirked briefly, but it slipped away as quickly as it had come. "I thought I was gonna bust the door down before your mom opened it."

Jamie didn't remember any of that, but he tried to imagine how it would have been and couldn't, too tired to think about anything for long. He just knew that Jack had saved him, like he had done in the past, and that knowledge made him relax further into the bed. Jamie smiled weakly at him. "Thanks. For bringing me back, I mean. And for saving me."

It came as a surprise when Jack didn't brush it off, grin at him, tell him it was nothing. Instead, the older boy seemed to go a shade paler in the lamp light, eyebrows tightening into an expression Jamie had never seen, or at least directed at him. Jack was standing up in a flash, looking at him from the other side of the bed. "Don't thank me, because I didn't do anything."

With that, he was off the floor and perched on the dresser in less than a second, causing Jamie's head to spin slightly. He stared downward, eyes tight and jaw clenched, and the grip he had on his staff, Jamie noted, was intense, bright frost coating the area beneath his hand.

A surge of regret and unhappiness swept through Jamie, and with the state he was already in, it felt like his stomach was pulling in on itself, chest tightening. Jack was mad, mad at him, and he didn't know how to react to that, because Jack had never been angry with him before, and Jamie didn't like it one bit. It actually hurt, knowing his friend was so furious, knowing he was the cause of it, and he looked down at his hands, blinking quickly several times to keep his eyes from filling.

"I'm sorry I made you mad," Jamie said sheepishly, miserably, once the silence had become unbearable, hands tight in the quilt covering him.

He could heard Jack's sharp intake of breath, and when he looked up from beneath his eyelashes, he saw him begin to speak, then abruptly stop, mouth parting on air. Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm not mad at you, Jamie."

Jamie lifted his head quickly (a little too quickly, if the sudden pounding behind his eyes was anything to go on) and stared at his friend in confusion, fighting down the moisture threatening to spill. "But…at the pond. You…yelled at me, so I thought…"

Jack laughed, though it held no humor, instead sounding downright distressed and regretful. "Yeah, I did. And I'm sorry, because I really didn't mean to. But I wasn't mad, and I'm not now." Jack looked back at him, and Jamie saw his eyes widen a fraction of an inch, shock and something akin to horror written over his face. "Jamie, are you…crying?"

Realizing that he'd kept tears from leaking down his face but not from leaving his eyes completely, Jamie shook his head delicately for fear of another throbbing ache, smile wobbly and brief.

He watched Jack's teeth bite into his bottom lip, almost felt the unhappiness that filled his friend's eyes, but neither of them said anything for a moment, Jack still staring at him and thoughts hidden, Jamie waiting until the wetness cleared from his vision. He finally inquired, "Then, if you're not mad at me, what's wrong?"

Jack took a deep breath, looking down at something besides Jamie as he waited. "I was scared," he said quietly, so soft that Jamie nearly had to guess his words. "I heard you screaming and when I got there, I saw you out in the middle of the pond, and I heard the ice crack and I…I panicked. That's why I told you not to go out there without me, and especially not when the ice is thin." For a moment, Jack got that hooded look his eyes did every so often, the blue of them darkening into something Jamie couldn't see and an immeasurable sadness spreading to his pale features. But then he was back and looking right at Jamie, eyebrows pulled down unhappily and seeming, to Jamie, strangely young. "You scared me," he admitted.

It was more the thought of something happening to him, Jamie realized, that had shaken Jack so, and he felt instant guilt for sneaking off to the pond after Jack had told him not to. He pushed out from beneath the covers, intent on getting up and walking to stand beneath him, tell him he was sorry so that his heart didn't hurt so much, but once he was on his knees, he found it hard to move any farther and had to force himself to remain upright. Fighting with the pain at his temples, Jamie focused on Jack's now alert figure.

In the time it took Jamie to blink, Jack was off the dresser, one arm extended out to him and eyes a little wide. "Jamie, take it easy—"

"I didn't mean to," he interrupted, trying to keep his balance by catching himself on a wobbly arm. "I'm sorry."

Just then, what little strength his body h\ad gave out, his head pounding and the room threatening to spin around him, and Jamie collapsed flat on his stomach into the blankets, trying to push himself up on weak arms and failing.

Jack was by him in an instant, gently pulling him up against his chest. "Will you knock it off?" he snapped, though Jamie could detect no anger, only something that made his voice crack. "You didn't do anything wrong. I should have been keeping an eye on you, or gotten to you faster, then you wouldn't be sick now."

Jamie, now having to force his eyes open as his head settled, was suddenly overcome with an oddly pleasant chill; not the kind that was racking his body, but one from the outside that cooled some of the heat from his skin, and he sank into Jack, sighing tiredly as he looked up into his friend's tired, remorseful face. "'s not your fault," he mumbled. "I went out by myself. I shouldn't have. And you saved me, just like always."

Jack didn't say anything, and Jamie watched him with a half smile, sure in the knowledge that Jack would always save, always guard; that was what he did best, Jamie realized. And then, finally, he smiled back, eyes saying a million things Jamie couldn't understand. Jack just held him tighter, as if the action could convey everything he kept silent.

But after a moment, Jack began to slip out from beneath him, and Jamie couldn't stop the tired whine that left his throat at the lost contact, sleepily reaching out to latch onto him. Jack's laugh was softer than fallen snow. "I'm not leaving. I'm just going to let you get some sleep."

Jamie, though, felt a tired surge of panic when Jack once again tried to free himself, and moving slowly so that he didn't upset his head or overwork his fatigued body, Jamie made it to unsteady knees, hands catching onto Jack's arms when he reached out in alarm to top him. He fell forward into Jack's chest, sliding his arms around his middle.

Jack stiffened, either from still growing accustomed to physical contact of because of the body heat radiating off of him, Jamie didn't know. A hand touched his shoulder, not pushing him away but clearly about to. "Kid, I don't think this is such a good idea. You just fell through ice, you have a fever…the last thing you need is to get too cold around me."

But all Jamie could focus on was just how good the cold felt. Yes, he was warm; hot, fever heat that burned his cheeks and made his head feel all fuzzy, so it made sense for him to press into Jack's cold, which was somehow different than the cold from earlier that could—would—have killed him, sighing through his nose and simply smiling as the heat was slowly replaced by a clear, comforting coolness. Sleepy and not entirely able to control what he said, Jamie snuggled closer to him. "You feel _good_."

The Guardian of Fun went still, and Jamie could have sworn he heard him stop breathing for a second. Then, slowly, a cool had was on his forehead where he rested against Jack's shoulder, an arm slipping behind him, and when Jamie forced his gluey eyes to open, Jack was smiling down at him in a way he'd never seen: gentle and appreciative and a few others things Jamie was too young and tired to recognize. He had a pretty good idea, though, that no one had ever told Jack he felt good to hug.

Jamie managed to smile back before letting his eyes shut once more.

* * *

Arms around him, cold, familiar arms pulling him down into a soft surface. Jamie, still mostly asleep, blearily looked around the room, now without lamplight, only to find Jack laying him down on his side, keeping his comforting chill near enough that he wasn't sweating hot. Mumbling, Jamie tried to say something; what, he couldn't even remember later on.

Jack tightened his hold around him, loose but somehow like a cocoon, and smiled. "Shh, go back to sleep. I'm here."

Reassured, Jamie's head hit the pillow and he was lost to sleep, body curled close to Jack's chest.


End file.
